Disguised Vengeance

Chapter 6

“Go,” he said gently to the sobbing girl. She did not need to be told twice. Lifting her skirts, she ran and disappeared into the crowd. Jase stood patiently in the shadows as he waited for the man to recover from shock.

“Do you know who you’re talking to?” the bearded man asked angrily once he regained his voice, not bothering to hide his blood lust.

“Do you know who you’re talking to?” Jase answered his question with a question.

“No.”

“Good. Then we’re even,” Jase remarked with a smirk preparing himself for a fight. The man did not disappoint and lifted his fist in response. However, he dropped it hurriedly upon hearing the stomping of a city guard’s boots. Neither of them wanted to be caught fighting in the streets.

“Noon. Blacksmith’s Avenue. Two streets down from here. A fight to the death.”

“Sounds like fun,” replied Jase cockily, confident in his skills and ability.

“I suggest you dress for a funeral, boy.”

“Whose? Yours?”

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As he ventured deeper into the city, away from the hustle and bustle of the marketplace, he found a quiet, secluded inn to spend the night. He gave the inn keeper a silver coin and entrusted Silver to the stable boy. After a light lunch, he made his way to Blacksmith’s Avenue.

Blacksmith’s Avenue was evidently the poorer part of the city. The houses were wobbly and flimsy, with holes in the roof, and their windows and doors were shut tightly. The beautiful cobblestones that decorated the main street were replaced with hard-packed earth. Although the street was swept clean of trash, it was filled with the stench of vomit and alcohol. Jase crinkled his nose in disgust. Apart from an occasional moan, the street was eerily quiet.

The sheath of his sword hit against his thigh as he walked. His worn leather boots made no sound as he stepped lightly on the hard-packed earth. Jase itched for his sword. His body was stiff and restless from his long journey, and was eager for some exercise.

A high-pitched metal shing echoed around him as Jase heard his opponent draw his sword from its sheath. Unsheathing his own sword, Jase turned just in time to meet his opponent’s blow, but not before the blade left a shallow wound on his right cheek.

“I under estimated you,” the bearded man commented, totally unashamed for attacking Jase while he was unarmed and unprepared.

“A low and desperate move on your part,” stated Jase irritably, referring to his opponent’s attack on his turned back. “I’m going to kill you,” Jase commented simply.

“In your dreams boy. I am Mordred, the knight commander. Keep that in mind when you’re dying,” the bearded man announced while lunging forward to disarm Jase. Their blades clashed and the sound travelled through the air into the listening ears of a curious little boy.

“I don’t see any skill beyond hacking blindly with a sword,” taunted Jase, disappointed that his opponent was not much of a challenge. Mordred was strong, but had absolutely no skill or strategy. Despite his grandmother’s warning about the strength of Bellerania’s defence, if all the knights in Bellerania were like Mordred, he would have no problem breaking through the castle’s defence.

Mordred’s sword clattered to the ground. Jase lunged to deliver the killing blow when his eyes widened and his grip on his sword slackened. He looked down and saw the handle of a dagger protruding from a bloody wound in his abdomen. Mordred had a hidden weapon and had no qualms against using it. As a knight, Mordred had absolutely no honour.